


Overwhelmed

by WritLarge



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, Han gives a shit, No Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritLarge/pseuds/WritLarge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No, it’s just- “Luke stared at the bottle and then laughed bleakly. “You came here to get me drunk didn’t you?”</p><p>“Well, I-”</p><p>“Drunk so I’d talk about my feelings. Feelings, Han! You!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overwhelmed

It didn’t really hit him until after the Ceremony, when he’d hidden away in his room, away from the questions and accolades of people whose names he never remembered.

The adrenaline and triumph had long since faded and mourning had begun. The Rebels had lost a lot of good people in the battle and there was no end of memorials to attend. The one for Biggs had been hardest. The Ceremony was supposed to have been an antidote to that, something to lift them all up, to celebrate before the hard work of rebuilding got underway.

Luke had managed to plaster smile on his face no matter how wrung out he felt. It was all so damned overwhelming. He’d met more people in the past couple of weeks than the whole rest of his life. And it never stopped. There was always somewhere to go or someone to talk to. He hardly ever got a moment to himself.

He never thought he’d miss the mind numbing boredom of Tatooine, but he did.

Leia made it easier when he saw her, but she rarely stopped moving. She was a leader and key to so many decisions being made. Mostly he tried to stick with Han, who, despite being an ass, was turning out to be a sort of begrudging big brother of a friend. He’d even managed to help Luke escape after the Ceremony by using himself as bait. Nothing was quite as distracting to the more noble and straight-laced commanders than a belligerent Han Solo. Leia would probably make him pay for it too.

A banging on his door broke Luke out of his thoughts.

“Hey kid. Open up!” Speak of the devil. Luke smiled. He hastily wiped at his eyes and opened the door.

“What do you want?” His attempt to keep a straight face was, admittedly, rather pathetic.

“Kid, I threw myself to the wolves back there. Least you can do is drink with me.” The man grinned and held up an unfamiliar bottle. Luke had once learned the hard way that any liquor Han liked was bound to be highly questionable.

“Maybe one.” He let Han cross into the room, the door swishing shut behind him.

“You say that now," Han waggled the bottle, “but you haven’t even tried it yet.”

They settled on the bed and poured shots into small glasses that had materialized out of thin air. Luke didn't bother trying to figure out the man’s smuggling trickery. Han had pockets and places for everything. 

“Bottoms up!” Knocking back the shot, Luke managed not to gasp out loud at the fierce burning sensation. Holy hell. Who had Han stolen this from? Han poured another two shots in silence, speaking just as Luke lifted the glass to his lips.

“You all right, kid?” 

The second went down as harshly as the first, but this time the burn was good. It hurt like hell, but it was good.

“Yeah,” he breathed in through his nose. “No. I don’t know!” He thrust the glass back at Han who readily refilled it.

“You haven’t been talking much. You seemed fine after the memorial, but it’s okay if-" he paused when Luke rapidly downed his third shot. The burn was still there, but he didn’t care so much anymore. Even the awful taste wasn't so bad. 

“It’s not that. Them.” His voice shook a little. “I mean, they died for what they believed in right?”

“Yeah,” Han answered warily, pouring again. “Sure. That doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it.”

“No, it’s just-" Luke stared at the bottle and then laughed bleakly. “You came here to get me drunk didn’t you?”

“Well, I-”

“Drunk so I’d talk about my feelings. Feelings, Han! You!” He shoved his shoulder against his friend, who took care to keep the drinks from spilling.

“Hey, I can give a shit, all right? Besides, you’re out pacing me already. Shut up and drink your damned shot.” Luke took the glass and drank it obediently. “Listen, brat. This whole mess started when Obi-Wan dragged you away from your peaceful farm boy existence-“

Luke snorted and handed his glass back to Han.

“-and has been one long slog through shit, watching your friends and squad get blasted to hell. You’ve probably killed more than few people yourself and-"

“Thousands.” The whispered words escape him before he can even really think about it.

“What?” The look of surprise from Han spurred him on.

“Thousands, Han. I killed thousands of people when I destroyed the Deathstar.” It’s the first time he’s said it out loud.

“Yeah,” Han answered slowly, “Yeah, I guess you did at that.”

They looked at each other for a long moment and Luke was fairly certain that he was going to start crying again when Han poured himself a shot and handed Luke the rest of the bottle.

“Try not to spill, kid.” Luke began to giggle at the ridiculousness of it all - the drink, the company, and Han’s very unsubtle assertion that Luke clearly needed the drink more than he did. It’s a nervous laughter and it quickly moves from anxious to almost hysterical. 

“It’s all right. Will be. Shit.” Han throws an awkward arm around his shoulders and hugs him. “You’ll get over it.”

“You think so?” Luke took a shaky swig from the bottle and regretted it immediately, coughing wetly when it went down the wrong way. Han pried the bottle from his trembling hands.

“No, but you learn to live with it.” He met Han’s eyes again and remembered how much older the man was and how much less of a sheltered life he’d probably had. “It was you or them kid, and if it hadn’t been you, we can only hope one of the other pilots would’ve made the shot.”

Han was right, of course, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Thousands of people, with lives and jobs and families, had all gone out in an instant because of him. And yes, they would have killed him right back if they could have, but in the cosmic grand scheme of things, Luke wondered if what he did really made him any different than those who destroyed Alderaan or the countless other cities decimated by the Empire.

Obi-Wan had felt the disturbance in the Force when the population of Alderaan had been snuffed out. Luke hadn’t felt anything but the high of victory when the Deathstar had exploded.

Some Jedi he was.

“Ah, crap.” Han fumbled one of the shot glasses and it rolled across the floor. Trying to help, Luke pushed himself up to go get it and the room lurched sideways. The only thing that kept him from landing next to the glass was Han’s grip on the back of his shirt. “Whoa. You better sit back down, light weight.”

He lands back on the bed heavily, slumping against Han. It’s nice and, for all his gruffness at times, the smuggler didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m not a hero. I just got lucky.” Han understood him, even if the collar of his jacket had muffled Luke’s words.

“Like hell you got lucky.”

“I’m a terrible Jedi.” That much was true. What little time he’d had with Obi-Wan hadn’t been nearly enough. Hell, it had been more about the potential of the force than any real training. Luke had only had brief moments of success with it so far. Luck.

“Look, I don’t know anything about mystic Jedi powers,” Han waved his hands around mockingly, “but you got something. You just have to decide what you’re going to do with it.”

Great, more big decisions. Luke felt that he was far too drunk to be expected to think.

“I think- I think I’m just going let Leia tell me what to do.” Leia was much better at this sort of thing anyway. Han burst out laughing.

“Well good luck to you then kiddo. You’re going to have a tight leash.” He drank deeply from the bottle.

“Awww, you like her,” Luke slurred.

“Hmmm. Want another?”

“No. Sleep now.” His coherency was rapidly going downhill and Luke opted not to fight it. He was safe and warm and pleasantly numb.

“All right.” The body next to his shifted along with the rest of the room and when the spinning stopped, he was tucked into his bed. “Mind if I crash on your floor?”

“S’fine.” Even with his eyes closed the darkness of the back of his eyelids seemed to swirl, but eventually everything calmed.

“Good night, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> Where this came from, I don't even know.


End file.
